


Lost in the Valley of the Night

by ancslove



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Canon Era, Chains, Gang Rape, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Non-Consensual Touching, Obsession, Possessive Behavior, Raped in a place victim thought was safe, Sexual Slavery, rape as punishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-05-30 19:47:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19410160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ancslove/pseuds/ancslove
Summary: Enjolras is arrested after nearly causing a riot.  The soldiers have a novel way of teaching him his place.  But what begins as a simple lesson spirals into an unhealthy obsession with tragic results.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bereft_of_frogs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bereft_of_frogs/gifts).



Against the gray skies of the Paris slums, he was a blaze of light and colour. They’d been surreptiously watching him for the past few weeks. Asking questions, lingering on street corners, passing out pamphlets and coins, and speaking a few low words to the much more poorly dressed workers. It was clear to all that this boy, well clad and pale and fine boned, didn’t belong. 

The soldiers soon learned his name. Enjolras, a rich young student of law, ostensibly interested in establishing private tutoring services for the less fortunate children of the slums. But it was easy to see that the student had no real eagerness to become a teacher of children. He had higher aims. The boy spoke of rising costs and stagnant wages, of rampant illness and infection and the cures which should be forthcoming, but weren’t, and finally, of past improvements and future happiness. Occasionally, he was accompanied by different companions, all well-dressed and armed with pamphlets and handouts. And the soldiers watched and muttered as this Angel of the Slums appeared day after day to offer succor and leave a growing murmur of dissent in his wake. 

Finally, the boy made a mistake. A crowd had gathered on a street corner to hear him speak, and the crowd soon threatened to become a mob. The soldiers stepped in to disperse the rabble, and take their Angel into custody. Enjolras came quietly enough, once his would-be followers all safely headed to their humble homes. He didn’t seem to notice when some soldiers left lingering touches low on his back, or even guided him more roughly than strictly necessary. And he only mildly questioned as they more or less congenially escorted him, “merely for the sake of procedure” not to the Prefecture but the barracks. 

* * *

Once out of the public eye, things changed quickly. They shoved him inside an empty room and barred the door before their prey could recover his bearings. Enjolras opened his pretty mouth, undoubtedly to demand an explanation, but a soldier backhanded him across the face before he could voice any question. The force of the blow knocked him to the floor, and then it was a free-for-all. A flurry of kicks and punches served to keep their victim disoriented and subdued. 

Enjolras soon lay panting in pain, but still showed no fear. The captain, a burly soldier of fifty years, reached down to seize him by the hair and pull his head up. “Do as we say, and you’ll go free with no record and no harm done. You know as well as us what you’ve been up to around the slums of Saint-Michel. So, my lad, accept your chastisement and then we’ll let you be on your way, sore but wiser for it.”

The boy faced his attackers impassively. “It’s not surprising that the servants of tyranny are as corrupt as the tyranny itself. But the more you crush the individual people in your care, the more you ensure that the People will at last refuse your lash and yoke.”

“Your People abandoned you to us with little compulsion today, wouldn’t you agree? If you’re truly interested in bettering this great city, you’d offer your attentions and services to us, her true and loyal servants, rather than the rabble who do nothing and take everything.”

Enjolras spat in the man’s face. “Go ahead and beat me, it means even less than your official word.”

“Very well. You’ll sing a different tune by nightfall.”

Hands closed on the young angel’s clothes, rending the expensive garments from his flesh. Enjolras bore it stoically, mocking them by his sheer indifference. For all his protestations of _egalite_ and _fraternite_ , he embodied the cold hauteur of the aristocracy. The bourgeois guardsmen were beneath his notice, and his contempt galvanized the men surrounding him. 

The captain touched the young man’s smooth cheek, admiring the soft, gleaming skin. Enjolras, barely even winded from the assault which had left him half naked, met his gaze steadily. The captain stroked his cheek for a time, before he buried his fingers in the mass of golden hair and forced their mouths together. Enjolras reared back in shock, but his protests were swallowed in his mouth. More soldiers moved to hold him still, allowing the captain to taste and lick and devour his fill. Finally, he allowed Enjolras to pull away. Enjolras’ lips gleamed wet and red, his long golden locks fell in mussed tangles, and his wide blue eyes finally betrayed a hint of youthful, innocent fear. Amazing how one little kiss could leave the angel of the revolution looking so… debauched.

“Delicious. All those men who gather to watch you speak, they find your mouth far prettier than the words you declaim. They’d have you on your back in a second, if you stayed with them much later than you do, and they’d show you just what kind of relief they want from you.”

Enjolras shook his head, trying to deny the turn which these events had taken. “You can’t mean this. This is insane, it’s criminal. You can’t-”

Another hard kiss cut him off, the captain’s tongue forcing its way into Enjolras’ warm mouth, silencing him. 

* * *

The soldiers crowded around their prisoner and began to disrobe. Soon, the boy found himself in the center of a circle of hardened pricks, all eager to claim his mouth. Batting them away with his hands did little except excite them all. Pressing against him, the soldiers played with him, grabbing his hair and pulling his head around in different directions, rubbing themselves against his face. Held on his knees, Enjolras had no room to escape. Cocks slapped his cheeks and butted against his clenched lips. First one soldier, and then another, and then another pulled him close in order to thrust against his face. With every shaky breath, the boy choked on the musky scent of sweat and lust. Some seized his hands and forced him to stimulate their erections, while others reached down to pinch his bared nipples. One soldier knelt behind him, keeping the boy still as he humped against still clothed thighs and bit the pale, aristocratic column of his throat. Enjolras endured it all in silence, struggling to keep his mouth closed against the soldiers’ fleshy weapons. 

Soon, the soldiers grew bored of just toying with their beautiful victim. As a group, they stepped back, and finally Enjolras could breathe freely. His eyes were closed and his whole body trembled as he gulped for clean air, but he still did not scream or cry. 

“Come on, boy,” the captain ordered. “Get those trousers off, or we’ll rip them to shreds and let you leave here naked.”

Enjolras raised his head, the conflict plain in his crystalline eyes. The captain leaned down, getting in his face. “Listen well, Enjolras. This is happening, with or without your cooperation. But if you want to still leave here at the end of the day, clear and free and relatively unscathed, you’ll give us what we want.”

Slowly he obeyed, and with shaking fingers unfastened his trousers, letting the fine material pool around his ankles. Once he did, the soldiers swarmed him again, stripping the clothes completely away and feasting greedily on the expanse of newly exposed marble skin. Fingers groped and squeezed his white thighs and buttocks.

They maneuvered him onto his hands and knees, pressing in close to keep him still. The captain took first place between Enjolras’ legs. He spat quickly into his hands twice, and slicked himself and his young victim’s entrance. Gripping the slim hips in both hands, he pushed forward. Enjolras’ hole was hot and almost too tight, making the captain moan in pained pleasure. He draped himself over the boy’s back and began to thrust. Enjolras was rigid beneath him, head bowed and jaw clenched tightly. The captain lowered his own mouth to pepper kisses and lovebites across his back, while he moved in and out of the tight channel. 

Another soldier fisted a hand in Enjolras’ hair and yanked his head up. “Open up now, whore. And no stupid heroics.”

For the first time, their victim tried to resist, shaking his head and baring clenched teeth. A musket cocked, aimed at the back of his knee. A voice came from behind, “It’ll be hard to help your rabble if both your knees are blown out. Now suck on that cock.”

Fingers forced his mouth open, allowing the cock to thrust inside. He only endured a handful of quick thrusts before more hands pulled his head off the first cock and onto a second. The captain watched the soldiers at Enjolras’ head jockey for position as he continued to piston back and forth inside the boy. Enjolras was softly moaning now, muffled by the cocks fighting for his lips, while his body rocked in time to the harsh rhythm from above. 

The captain began to pick up speed, slamming into the captive quicker and quicker. Finally, his vision exploded as he reached his climax. Collapsing across Enjolras’ smooth, slim back, he recovered his breath. “See, my dear? This is what all your admirers long to do to you. They aren’t thinking about better wages or safer working conditions or surviving the winter or whatever else you like to blather on about. They see you and think only about tearing the clothes from your beautiful body, and bending you over the nearest surface, and fucking you senseless. That’s all you are to them. A carnal dream they’ll never deserve.”

Enjolras was too busy gagging on the cock which filled his mouth to answer. Pulling free of the ravaged, reddened hole, the captain wiped his cock on Enjolras’ hip and slapped his buttock. “Who’s next?”

Another soldier moved between Enjolras’ knees and buried himself to the root. Enjolras’ cry of pain was cut short as the man in front let out a shout and spilled in his mouth. It wasn’t long before that mouth was claimed again and a new cock choked his cries. The captain stepped back and watched his men descend upon their beautiful captive. Those pale, unblemished hands with their long, slim fingers were seized and once more forced to pump up and down the pricks of the men waiting their turns at his mouth and arse. At one point, they flipped him over and pinned him on his back. His legs were yanked apart and held high in the air, while one lucky man sat across his shoulders in order to shove his prick down the tight, gasping throat. The soldiers took their fill of the young would-be revolutionary. And the captain found himself absently stroking his own cock as he watched that breathtaking body being slapped, bitten, pulled and stretched into various unnatural positions, and thoroughly used. The small room echoed with the slap of flesh against flesh, the soldiers’ lusty grunts and the victim’s wet, choking moans. 

* * *

At last, the men were sated. Enjolras lay sprawled across the floor, a broken doll. The captain strode forth and seized a handful of filthy golden hair. He dragged Enjolras to his knees again and waited for those blue eyes to open. But when Enjolras focused on him, he showed neither fear nor despair, nor even anger at suffering such blatant mistreatment. No sound came from his abused lips, but the steady, haughty gaze spoke volumes. This boy was far from broken. Still, the captain was a man of his word. 

“Once more, my boy, and then you’re free to go. No record, no harm done, but hopefully you’ll think of this the next time you try to stir a riot in the streets. The mob will turn on you as easily as it turns on us. It could be a host of unwashed criminal degenerates you find next between your thighs.”

The captain slid inside Enjolras’ mouth with a sigh of pleasure. Enjolras’ lips were soft and his mouth hot and moist. One of his men stepped up to wrap a strong hand around Enjolras’ neck and tip his head back just so. It was easy to slip down the opened throat and enjoy the tight muscles swallowing around his prick. His hips rocked back and forth as his hands stroked over Enjolras’ face and hair. The boy wasn’t really sucking, but his soft swallows and quick movements of his tongue were heavenly. When he came, the captain coated the boy’s tongue with his essence.

The men filed out quickly, their day’s entertainment finished. The captain stayed to watch Enjolras dress, and even gave the boy a spare shirt to replace the one they’d shredded. He graciously elected to ignore the quiet, defiant assertion of the rabble’s innate goodness as Enjolras left. No matter. The captain was far from finished here. He would have this angel again. Soon.


	2. Chapter 2

The Café Musain was quiet tonight. It had been three weeks since Enjolras’ detainment and ordeal, and he’d been mostly succeeding at putting it from his mind. Enjolras had known the risks associated with his work, and unhesitatingly accepted them. He was proud to dedicate his life to the arrival of a better world, and had never flinched from danger to his person. There was no need to dwell on his previous abuse, no need to worry his friends with the news. He’d told them of his arrest and release with only a verbal warning, and then took steps to ensure that everyone was paired and careful in their recent endeavors. It was over.

It was simply that Enjolras had never imagined the specific punishment the soldiers had chosen to inflict. And although he desperately tried not to, sometimes in the silence of the night, he heard the captain’s words in his mind. And when he went now to the desperate and stricken streets of Paris’ most wretched children, he sometimes, fleetingly, found himself wondering if the people he greeted really did imagine him in such… debauched circumstances. As the days passed and the work piled up, the thoughts faded. Soon, Enjolras was sure, the entire incident would be relegated to an unnoticed corner of his mind. 

Enjolras bit back a sigh and refocused on the work before him. An academic assignment, this time. His schoolwork had slipped in recent weeks and needed remedying. He took a quick sip from the mug of tea by his elbow, only vaguely wondering when that had appeared. Combeferre must have sent the serving girl in, before he’d retired for the night. 

He picked up his pen and tried to finish his sentence. His mind was having a bit of difficulty coalescing into thought. Enjolras blinked blurry, tired eyes and took another gulp of tea. He managed to write a few more words, but his arms felt heavy and sluggish. He had too much to accomplish, to rest just yet. Perhaps a quick walk around the room would help wake mind and body. Enjolras lifted his head, readying his body to rise, and froze. He was there, standing just inside the doorframe. The captain of the soldiers, the one who’d directed his torture. 

“You probably don’t want to try to move too much,” said the voice which had haunted his dreams.

“Why are you here?” Enjolras managed to ask, although even his tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth.

The captain moved toward him, smiling. There was a wildness to his eye that hadn’t been present during their previous encounter, and Enjolras swallowed down a flash of fear.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you, you know. How wonderful you felt, how beautiful you looked impaled on my prick, how sweet you tasted. I knew I had to have you again.”

Enjolras shook his head, or tried to. He tried to scramble away, to run, or call for help. Nothing happened.

“Don’t worry, my dear, it will wear off eventually. You’re a creature of habit, you see. It was easy to drug your order. It’s better this way, you won’t accidentally hurt yourself resisting me. Next time, we won’t need the concoction.”

Next time? Enjolras couldn’t voice the words, but the confusion must have shown on his face, for the captain responded, “I’m not giving you up, my angel. But we’ll have time to discuss the future. Right now, you don’t understand how I need you.”

The captain was upon him now, those terrifying hands reaching for his clothes. Enjolras tried to squirm away as he was pulled from his chair, but his body refused to obey him. He was crushed against the captain’s broader frame and soon a foreign tongue was once again claiming his mouth. Enjolras sagged against his tormentor, unable to do anything but surrender to the violation. His mind shuddered when his trousers were unfastened and pulled down to his knees. Rough hands wormed under his shirt, touching and pinching where Enjolras had never permitted. 

He was forced to his knees, the man’s cock bobbing before his face. Soon it was in his mouth, hot and heavy on his tongue. Enjolras could do nothing as fingers tightened in his hair and the cock moved in and out of his mouth. The man moaned his pleasure.

“Oh, how I’ve missed this. I’ve dreamed of having this sweet mouth again. Have you still been speaking sedition, my boy? Better for you to put your tongue to work servicing my cock. So beautiful, so so beautiful, my love.”

The room lurched, and Enjolras’ vision blacked out for a moment. When he regained his senses, he was bent over the table, paralyzed legs spread wide. Hot breath ghosted over his neck and cheek, and hands held his hips pinned in place. Enjolras closed his eyes and tried to brace himself for what he now knew to expect. The moment the captain entered him was just as painful and humiliating as he remembered. Gritting his teeth, Enjolras tried to endure the assault. The captain’s pace was brutal, and his grunts in Enjolras’ ear were sickening. The pounding increased, until Enjolras thought he would surely be torn in half. The captain had taken to whispering sick praises, complimenting Enjolras on his “extraordinary youth, beauty, and fire”. The pain and disgust built with each thrust, each sound. Finally, whatever he’d been drugged with took its toll, and Enjolras lost consciousness entirely.

* * *

Enjolras awoke to find himself in his own bed. His entire body ached, and his head throbbed painfully. Moaning, Enjolras tried to sit up, but found himself pulled back down. His wrists were chained securely to his headboard. And he was bare beneath the thin blanket covering him. Worst of all, the captain sat beside his bed, watching him with eyes still darkened with lust. Fighting the rising panic, Enjolras shook his head, trying to make sense of this. The captain quickly covered his mouth. “Good, you’re awake at last. The drug was much stronger than I’d anticipated, and fucking a motionless body gets boring after awhile.”

Enjolras cleared his dry throat. How long had he been unconscious? He tried to ask, mumbling through the hand over his mouth.

“Shh, my angel, no words now. Just listen. You belong to me now. I thought that having you once more would be enough. That I would be sated and could move on, but you’ve bewitched me. Once more could never be enough with a boy as enchanting as you. Such beauty as yours was made to be thoroughly enjoyed.” The captain pulled the blanket from Enjolras’ body and tossed it on the floor. His hand shifted to cup Enjolras’ jaw, thumb still stroking over his lips. Then the captain moved to lie on top of him, making Enjolras gasp at the sudden weight. He continued, “But I’ll make it good for you, you’ll see. Once you accept your place, there’ll be no more need for the chains or the drugs. And I’m in a position that could help you and your companions. I can ignore all the interesting and quite possibly illicit material I’ve found in your apartment. I can instruct the guards to turn a blind eye to your dealings in the street. Your little society can keep its cover. All you have to do is please me.”

Enjolras again shook his head. “You’re mad, you can’t do this. Whatever plan you have will never work. Cease this madness now, before you defile your position even further!”

The captain laughed, low and dangerous. “Perhaps I am mad, but it is you who provoked my affliction. Now hush, there are much better uses for your tongue.”

And so it began again. The captain made good on his threat, swallowing Enjolras’ cries of pain with his own mouth. Once more, Enjolras’ body was violated, and he was helpless to prevent his degradation. The captain rutted into him for what seemed like hours, until he finally spent himself. Enjolras was grateful to pass out again, once the ordeal was finished.

* * *

The cycle continued throughout the day and into the evening. The captain’s lust seemed insatiable. By nightfall, Enjolras was sure he must be torn inside and his wrists were sore and abraded from the chains. At last, he was given a sip of water and covered for the night. Sleep was a mix of fitful rest and genuine unconsciousness as his beleaguered mind sought escape. 

Enjolras woke the next morning to the steady thrusts of his captor, already awake and inside him. The captain’s teeth sank into the flesh of his shoulders and neck, sucking deep bruises into his skin. Weakened by pain, trauma, and the first stirrings of hunger, Enjolras couldn’t resist. The captain forced his sore thighs wide and raped him with deep, powerful strokes. As he climaxed, Enjolras began to wonder how long he could endure.

The captain pulled out with a happy sigh and bent his head to steal a quick kiss. “I have to leave you for awhile, love, but I’ll be back in a few hours. Be a good boy, I’ll be thinking of you while we’re apart.”

He stuffed a rag into Enjolras’ mouth and sealed it inside with another scrap of cloth. And Enjolras was left alone, still chained to his own bed. He pulled at the shackles weakly, before quickly deciding that it was better to use the time to heal a bit and regain his strength. He would find a way to escape. His friends would begin to question his whereabouts if he didn’t resurface soon. All he needed to do was stay alive and keep his wits about him. The repeated rapes had taken a toll on his body and mind, and Enjolras drifted in and out of consciousness. Once, he thought he saw Combeferre’s face hovering above him, but it was merely a pain-riddled dream. The disappointment upon waking to his live nightmare was difficult to bear. 

His captor returned all too quickly, and fell on Enjolras hungrily. This time, he forced Enjolras’ mouth open and slammed inside. His brutal thrusts had Enjolras’ head bouncing against the headboard while he struggled to breathe through the onslaught. Enjolras writhed and coughed, but he had nowhere to go and nothing to hold onto. The thick cock continued to piston in and out of his throat, making his eyes water. When the captain pulled out, Enjolras was left gasping and choking for air. But his suffering wasn’t over. Enjolras was still dry-heaving and struggling to recover his breath when his legs were spread and his body entered with bruising force. 

The rest of the day passed much as the previous one, in endless waves of abuse and wretchedness. He’d never known how many ways a body could be violated and used. He’d never imagined that one person could so intimately abuse another. When he was able to sleep, he dreamed of phantom bodies clawing at him, ravaging him until there was nothing left. And each time he woke, the captain was on top of him, using Enjolras’ body to slake his desire. 

* * *

Enjolras’ eyes were closed against the hard cock pounding him into the mattress. He didn’t know how long his captivity had lasted or how much longer he could hold on. Above him, his captor kissed his mouth and bit his lips until the blood flowed. Neither noticed the door opening or the strangled gasp from behind them. 

A sharp crack split the air, and the captain slumped on top of Enjolras, motionless. Enjolras kept his eyes closed, unwilling to face whatever his captor devised next. Only when the heavy body was suddenly removed from him and the frantic cries of his name came to him, did he relent. The relief was so overwhelming, he felt completely boneless. Combeferre and Courfeyrac stood before him, dragging the bleeding, still body of the captain off him. Gentle hands touched his face, and Enjolras tried not to flinch. Soon, his wrists were freed and his aching, ravaged body wrapped in a blanket. Combeferre pulled him close, and only now did the tears come.

“Shh, my friend. You’re safe now.”


End file.
